…it’s LUVLY when yeez can see the finishing line in the not-too-distant horizon… it has been almost two years since my last Jack Calder crime thriller masterpiece, SAVAGE PAYBACK, hit the Great God Amazon’s hustings… that two years had many things ‘going on’ that slowed down the production of the fourth novel about my ex-SAS guys… as yeez know, ‘Life is what’s happening when yeez are busy doing other things’… but I’m on the last furlong toward the elusive publication date… edits will follow for the moment, then taaa-raaaa!… Crooked Cat Publishing will herald KILLER CITY across yer Kindles and anywhere else yeez visit to buy yer books… for the moment, I’m keen to share with yeez the opening chapter, and must ‘fess up… a tiny frisson of excitement is setting in… I can’t wait to get it finished and ‘out there’, partly ‘coz the plot for title number five is already formulating in my wee gray cells… such is the life of a quill-scraper… here’s the opener:
In the old days, they worked directly for the local council. Nobody ever called them anything but bin men. Until the elected officials decided rubbish collection was better handled by private contractors, bin men they remained. Then the title changed to solid waste removal officers. The money they earned was more or less the same as when the council ran the pay packets. Nothing much else differed. The street rosters, the squad team, the early morning shifts. The trucks had modern hydraulic lifts with fluid cylinder hoists, making it easier to tip the wheelie bins into the back of the crusher. They still had to manhandle the wheelies from outside the household gates to the vehicle.
The chill morning air clouded with their condensed breath as they worked their way down Mulberry Street. This was Oldham, a large town in the Greater Manchester region in the north of England. Once a thriving textile area, the economic depression hit hard in the latter part of the century. Few of these homes were owner-occupied now, the majority rented by a spread of immigrant communities.
The gaffer and his mate were a good pair. Same-sequence colour bins in rotation for each gate, just as they’d done for twenty years. The blue wheelie at number 3 didn’t move on the first lift.
“Jeez, that’s damn heavy,” said the gaffer. “Feels like a ton of bricks.”
“Ach, you‘re getting weak in your old age, Pete,” said his mate. “Let’s have a decko.”
He lifted the lid and slammed it back down again.
He moved to the gate and steadied himself before throwing up into the bushes.
“What?” said the boss.
His pal waved his hand and retched again.
The gaffer gingerly lifted the lid a little and swore.
The body of a naked woman lay on top of the rubbish. The slashed throat and mutilations on her chest clogged with flies. Both men would have nightmares later about the lifeless, staring eyes.
A tip-off to the local newspaper meant a photo shot to accompany the next day’s headline story of the man resident at number 3, arrested for murder an hour after the corpse was discovered.
…I’d welcome yer comments,, Lads and Lassies of Blog Land… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!…
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